


Did it hurt?

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bad Pickup Lines, M/M, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-05-01 16:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: An exercise in shitty pickup lines.





	Did it hurt?

**Author's Note:**

> It's this tumblr post's fault:
> 
> https://dummy-do.tumblr.com/post/185498862160/ok-but-imagine-aziraphales-reaction-if-he-was
> 
> Thanks @dummy-do!!

‘Did it hurt?’

The pub was loud and dark. Aziraphale had a difficult time concentrating on not screaming out in frustration, let alone hearing what any random human passing by had to say to him. He blinked hard, letting the barroom come back slowly into focus. In the low lights, he could make out a man, rather handsome by modern standards Aziraphale supposed, standing in front of him. He was tall, tanned, and had voluminous dark hair he kept gelled into a strict, unnaturally windswept style. His smile was straight, but a little yellowed from smoking or coffee – not that Aziraphale would ever judge someone based on that. His eyes flicked down to take in the skinny jeans, not at all unlike the ones Crowley had taken to wearing lately but that didn’t look _nearly_ as good on this human than they did that demon, and the pastel polo he had half tucked into them. Aziraphale shook himself. ‘Sorry?’

‘Did it hurt?’ the man repeated, not noticing the demon lurking up behind him, eyes narrowed in on the back of his skull, as though hoping to drill into it and sever the brain’s attachment to the rest of the body. Aziraphale gulped, wondering what this man could have _possibly_ done to garner Crowley’s wrath without so much as speaking to him. He was speaking to Aziraphale, after all, wasn’t he?

‘Did what hurt?’

‘When you fell from heaven,’ the man grinned, a mask of self-confidence covering the fragile and desperate man Aziraphale could see flailing helplessly beneath. Aziraphale felt momentarily very sorry for him until the words caught up with him.

‘I _beg_ your pardon?’ Aziraphale was immediately affronted. How _dare_ this man, this _mortal_ , imply that he had so much as inched towards the precipice from which he would fall from grace. Sure, he had gone directly against Heaven and the Great Plan, but he had _never actually_ Fallen. They had tried to kill him, of course, which now he thought about it, was likely worse, but they’d never cast him out. So far as he knew. He would need to ask Crowley.

‘I’ve got this one, angel,’ the corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched as though he were holding back from baring his teeth in a feral growl. Or probably a hiss. Crowley was more of a hisser. He clapped (more whacked) a clawed hand to the man’s shoulder, squeezing the tips of his fingers and nails into it through the cotton of his pretentious polo. Aziraphale could not see his eyes behind the dark Valentinos (he only knew that because Crowley was aggressively proud of that fact), but he could imagine that they were blazing with fury from his tone and posture alone.

‘Woah mate, I didn’t know he was yours,’ the man turned around, painfully breaking free of Crowley’s iron grip, hands up, palms forward, silently pleading for forgiveness.

‘He belongs to himself,’ Crowley hissed. ‘And I’ll have you know, he’s an angel by all standards. You want to talk to the Fallen one, you talk to _me_. I’ll enjoy that conversation I think. Now, apologise to the angel and get the hell out of my sight.’

The man nodded, white as a sheet. He mumbled out an apology to Aziraphale before practically sprinting across the barroom and out the door. Aziraphale smiled. ‘Crowley, you’re too kind.’

‘Anything for you angel,’ Crowley smiled back. ‘You alright?’

‘Of course, I’ve got you,’ Aziraphale motioned for the bartender to make Crowley a drink. ‘The gentleman was rather rude, however. The _nerve_ of him to insinuate that I would have…’

‘Angel,’ Crowley cut him off with a long-suffering sigh. ‘He’s a human, remember? He has no idea what you are. It’s a pickup line. And a bad one too.’

‘What in the world is a pickup line?’ Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, briefly getting distracted by the softening of Crowley’s whole face when he did that. ‘I’ve in no way been lifted from my seat. He’d have had to put a bit of effort into it too, I’ve been overindulging in the sweets as of late.’

‘He wanted to take you home, angel, no – not by picking you up literally,’ Crowley laughed. ‘He wanted to _get into your pants_ as the slang goes.’

‘Why, I can’t see why, he certainly has _not_ got the same fashion sense as I have,’ Aziraphale was affronted. He had spent a good deal of time and dedication to the tailoring of his trousers. He was not about to go about handing them over to the first human to ask.

Aziraphale could practically hear Crowley’s eyes rolling behind his sunglasses. ‘Angel, you can be so dense sometimes. You’re lucky it’s loveable, or I’d start to get frustrated. He wants to sleep with you, angel. And no, I’m not talking in the _sweet dreams_ sense, I’m talking in the _birds and the bees_ kind of sense.’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale nodded, updating his mental dictionary of slang (most learned from Crowley). He paused for a moment before going beet red. ‘Wait a moment, _what?_ He wanted to _what? With me?_ Is he blind? Insane?’

‘Don’t look so surprised, angel,’ Crowley’s tone turned soft. ‘You’re a _catch_. One too good for that sleaze. Can’t blame the man for trying, though, you’re the absolute picture of angelic perfection. But that line was absolute nonsense. And it hurt your feelings.’

Aziraphale gaped up at Crowley. It sounded, ludicrously, as though Crowley thought he were _attractive_. As though he thought Aziraphale were worthy of _bringing home_. That was utterly ridiculous. Here was Crowley, the picture of classic, handsome _perfection_ , looking at him, Aziraphale, a pudgy, old-fashioned bit of a mess, if he were being honest, as though they were at all a proper match. But that was ridiculous of course, he would have to be mad to think that at all possible.

‘Why are you looking at me like that, angel?’ Crowley asked quietly, tossing some money on the counter and accepting his drink, downing it in a series of rapid gulps. He set the glass aside impatiently to reach out with both hands, gently holding Aziraphale’s face between them. ‘Don’t look at me like you think I’ve gone insane. You know how I feel about you, angel.’

‘Crowley, don’t be ridiculous,’ Aziraphale stopped breathing. ‘You’re _far_ too handsome to settle–’

‘No one would be _settling_ for you, angel,’ Crowley leaned down to kiss him full on the lips. He pulled away with the softest smile Aziraphale had ever seen. ‘You’re the pinnacle of Heavenly Perfection. The way the Almighty no doubt intended, not like those stuffy arseholes like Gabriel.’

‘So what you’re telling me is that, right now, it _wouldn’t_ hurt to fall from Heaven?’ Aziraphale finally allowed himself to smile back after a minute of stopping his brain short circuiting.

‘Not that you could,’ Crowley chuckled, kissing his forehead next.

‘You did, and you’re the most wonderful person I know,’ Aziraphale reached up to hold Crowley’s hands to his face. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad as that. It would just bring me to you.’

‘I wouldn’t let you fall, I’d catch you,’ Crowley smiled. ‘Would you do me the honour of taking me home with you?’

‘To get into those ridiculous trousers of yours?’ Aziraphale laughed, letting himself be pulled up to his feet. ‘I think I might be persuaded. Provided you don’t try to use any of those ridiculous _pickup lines_.’

‘You’re worth more than that, angel,’ Crowley smiled, leading the way toward the door. ‘I’ll pick you up some sweet confections on the way home.’

Aziraphale surprised him by whirling him around to kiss him, this kiss much less chaste than the last. Crowley made a surprised-then-contented noise in his throat, reaching out to draw his angel closer. Aziraphale pulled away, eyes shining mischievously. ‘I certainly hope it _didn’t_ hurt when you fell from Heaven, dear. Because I think you Fell for the sole purpose of becoming my Everything here on earth.’

Crowley had no other answer to that but to take Aziraphale to the nearest bakery for some sweet confections before bringing him back to the flat above the bookshop to – yes – slither his way into those questionably _fashionable_ trousers.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Did it hurt?’ the singsong voice of the tall blonde who had sidled up to him at the bar where he waited on Aziraphale to finish whatever business he had to take care of with some rare book dealer he was meeting in the café next door.

Crowley turned to her, eyebrow raised sarcastically above the lens of his sunglasses. She wasn’t _actually_ …

‘You know, when you fell from heaven?’ she finished with an unattractively girlish giggle. ‘Sorry, I know that’s stupid, but I don’t usually just walk up to a proper gorge like you.’

‘If he fell for anything, it would be me,’ Aziraphale’s voice sounded testily from behind him. Crowley spun around to spy the angel standing there with his hands pressed crossly to his hips. The expression on his face was politely neutral, but Crowley could see the tightness in his lips and jaw, not to _mention_ the stiffness in his spine. His eyes flicked down to the bag containing a set of very old-looking books and Crowley smiled. Aziraphale wasn’t testy because his book deal hadn’t gone well, this was all about him being territorial about Crowley. That warmed him from his head straight down to his toes.

‘You’re right about that, angel,’ Crowley wanted to grin, but knew it came out as more of a sappy smile. He reached out for Aziraphale, parting one hand from a hip to hold in his own. ‘I’ll have to decline to answer your question, miss.’

‘It’s a right shame for me, but you really lucked out, hm?’ she smiled at Aziraphale. ‘Sorry about the terrible line.’

Crowley waved away the apology, attention all but fully captured by Aziraphale. He barely noticed the woman slink away, but he _did_ notice the way his angel watched her go sourly with his eyes narrowed. He chuckled.

‘Sweet angel, you know there’s no need to be jealous,’ he pulled Aziraphale over to him so he could press a tender kiss to his temple. ‘I might be a Fallen Angel, but you _know_ I’ve fallen harder for you.’

‘I know that you silly demon,’ Aziraphale turned to wrap his arms around Crowley, exuding warmth and comfort. ‘But how _dare_ she make light of your having Fallen? Are you alright? What do you need, dear?’

Crowley snorted, burying his face into the soft warmth of Aziraphale’s shoulder. ‘Oh angel, you care so much for everyone around you sometimes. I’m _fine_. It was a stupid, _failed_ pickup line. I’d have laughed her off, probably less politely, if you weren’t here.’

‘Yes, but–’

‘Angel, before this, before _you_ , yes that might have bothered me, if I’m being honest,’ Crowley pulled away to look at his angel seriously. ‘You know I never meant to fall, and you know I harboured a lot of frustration about that… but that’s over now. It’s all over now. The world is saved and we’re just _us_ , together. This never would have happened had I stayed afloat.’

‘Still,’ Aziraphale leaned in to kiss him. ‘That was very rude of her. It’s alright to feel upset, you know.’

Crowley smirked. ‘Look angel, if you _really_ want to go out of your way to make me feel better, I think I know how you can help.’

‘Anything, dear,’ the angel said immediately.

Crowley stooped to pick up the bag of books and wound his other arm around his angel’s waist. ‘We’re going to go home, put these new treasures somewhere safe for you, and then we are going upstairs for the rest of the evening. And we’re not leaving that bedroom for _anything_.’

‘Not even sweets?’ Aziraphale looked legitimately affronted.

‘I’ll miracle you up some sweets,’ Crowley rolled his eyes, but smiled softly. ‘Anything for my angel.’

‘I hope it didn’t hurt,’ Aziraphale said quietly, stopping them beside the Bentley.

‘You hope what didn’t hurt?’ Crowley gave him a confused squeeze.

‘When you Fell from Heaven,’ the angel shrugged. ‘I really hope it didn’t hurt, because… well, it’s selfish and _awful_ , but I’m glad you did, because it brought you to me.’

Crowley kissed him soundly, delighting in the contented sigh Aziraphale let out into his mouth. He pulled back with a lovestruck smile. ‘I’m glad too, angel. And that’s besides the point. It could’ve been centuries of excruciating pain and I’d have been glad for it if the end result is falling in love with you. And I’ll tell you this, it was frustrating sometimes, but it certainly didn’t hurt to fall for you.’

‘Just the opposite,’ Aziraphale allowed himself to be ushered into the car. ‘Falling into you is falling into bliss.’

Crowley smiled and closed the door, making his way around the Bentley. He would never tell Aziraphale, but it _had_ hurt to Fall. It had felt like dying a thousand times over in a seemingly infinite number of creatively painful ways. But he didn’t care. That was over now. Besides, his angel had been right. His Fall had helped bring them together here. And he wouldn’t change that because of any pain in the universe. 


End file.
